


For the Record

by MicrosuedeMouse



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen, Not Canon Compliant, Secret Relationship, outside perspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:42:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25214869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MicrosuedeMouse/pseuds/MicrosuedeMouse
Summary: Troy Barnes would like it on the record that he isnotas stupid as he looks.
Relationships: Annie Edison/Abed Nadir, Troy Barnes & Abed Nadir, Troy Barnes & Annie Edison, Troy Barnes & Annie Edison & Abed Nadir, Troy Barnes & Britta Perry
Comments: 17
Kudos: 133





	For the Record

**Author's Note:**

> I have so many goddamn WIPs for this ship jfc
> 
> Anyway - this is one of the first AA fics I actually had the idea for. Parts of it really fought me but I finally got it done! I'm a big fan of that trope where there are three close friends and two get together and the third one slowly figures it out over time... also, very into "the so-called 'dumb one' has moments of spectacular insight but probably keeps them to himself." It's a structure I've been known to use in various fandoms over the last decade or so!
> 
> In terms of _when_ this fic takes place - idk, I left it pretty vague. Given the details included, I believe it could happen more or less anywhere between Annie's first experience with the Dreamatorium and Troy's departure? Though if you wanted to imagine that everyone comes back to Greendale after season six, there's no reason it couldn't happen then, too.

“Troy, I _honestly_ don’t mean it as an insult,” Britta insisted around a mouthful of salad. “It’s just that like, relative to the rest of the group, you’re not that observant.”

“I notice a lot more than you think I do, Britta,” he answered with a sniff. “Believe it or not, I’m not actually _dumb._ ”

“Of course not!” she agreed quickly. “Observation just isn’t a strong suit for you. It’s not a _bad_ thing.”

Troy threw down his napkin, his nose scrunched up with irritation, and looked across the cafeteria table at Abed and Annie. They’d both decided not to participate in this particular discussion, watching with curiosity instead. “Bet I notice all _kinds_ of things you don’t,” he challenged suddenly, still eyeing his roommates.

Annie’s eyes widened, just the tiniest bit. But Britta wasn’t looking at _her_. “Okay, like _what?_ ” the blonde demanded, skeptical now that Troy had turned it into a contest. “I’m genuinely curious.”

Troy’s gaze flicked to Abed, who’d tipped his head slightly to one side, like he often did when he was thinking. He watched Troy’s face closely, brows creased with uncertainty.

Troy turned on the bench seat he shared with Britta, facing her now, his expression irritated.

* * *

He’d noticed it first a few months ago, coming home one Sunday afternoon after a visit home to his dad. As he came in the door and hung up his coat, everything looked normal – Annie was perched in a chair at the counter reading a textbook, a highlighter hanging from her mouth, and Abed was in the kitchen waiting for his popcorn to finish popping. More or less what he’d expected.

Then he looked at Annie again, puzzled. She was wearing something he didn’t quite recognise on her – oversized and grey, so unlike the colourful little cardigans she normally preferred. But on his way past her, towards the fridge for something to drink, he saw the blue varsity stripes around the sleeves and made the connection: what she was wearing wasn’t hers at all. It was one of Abed’s hoodies.

“Hey man,” Abed greeted, not looking up from the microwave, and Troy glanced over at his best friend with curiosity. Sure, it didn’t _mean_ anything that Annie was wearing Abed’s sweater – they were roommates, and second-best friends. And Abed was already in his pyjamas. Troy could certainly imagine a scenario in which Annie got cold and simply picked up Abed’s discarded sweater and shrugged it on.

But he’d wondered, lately, if the two of them were growing closer. He would come home from his late-afternoon class on Thursdays and find them deep in conversation over dinner, or he’d be in the shower and hear Annie squawk out a laugh in the living room like she always did if one of them surprised her while she was concentrating. Once, after recovering from a nasty flu that had had him out cold for most of three straight days, he’d asked Abed what he and Annie had gotten up to in the Dreamatorium, and Abed had offered him a half-shrug and said it would take a really long time to summarise, but he’d been smiling a little bit when he said it. It had struck him as odd – normally Abed was _happy_ to recap a missed Dreamatorium adventure to him – but Troy had let it slide at the time.

Now, for the first time, he actually started to think maybe there was something more to this than _just_ Annie and Abed getting closer.

“I heard that new cartoon on Netflix is pretty good,” Abed said, taking his popcorn out of the microwave. “Anyone want to check it out with me?”

“I’m down,” Troy agreed, cracking open a can of ginger ale.

“I’d love a break,” Annie chipped in, smiling as she closed her textbook. Abed returned her grin, in his understated way, and Troy watched the two of them for a moment as they all settled in front of the TV. Annie took her spot on the floor in front of them, a cushion under her butt, as had been her habit recently – and then she leaned back against Abed’s legs, making herself comfortable. Abed reached out with his free hand, scratching the top of her head in a fond, absent gesture, and then twirling a strand of her hair around his finger before taking his hand back.

Troy smiled into his drink, curious.

It was only maybe a week later, when something else made him wonder. Annie came home bouncing, an enormous smile on her face, their mail clutched in one hand. “Troy!” she called, almost singing his name, and he couldn’t help chuckling as he turned his attention from his phone to her face. “Guess what!”

“What?” he asked. He’d learned ages ago that if he actually tried to guess, she’d burst with impatience before he could even get close.

“You remember that scholarship I was applying for a couple months ago? The one you and Abed had to, um, kind of help me out with?” That was an understatement. The scholarship was for recovering addicts, and the application process had been emotional, to say the least. But it was a _lot_ of money, so the two of them had supported her through every step. “I actually _got_ it!”

“Whaaat, that’s awesome!” Troy threw his arms in the air, sincerely excited for her. She beamed for another second before simply leaping at him, and he pulled her close in a warm hug. “I’m so proud of you!”

“Thank you!” she said, tightening her embrace a little around his neck as they rocked side to side. “And thanks for having my back.”

“Hey, you know I’m _always_ here for you,” he reminded her. “Me and Abed both.” And then, just enjoying the hug, he tucked his face down into her hair.

And he got a nose full of Abed.

It wasn’t just a whiff, he realised quickly, like she might pick up just from being around him all the time. And it was more than just the similarities that came from the three of them using the same laundry detergent and occasionally the same soap. It was Abed-smell, deep in her hair and her clothes, strong enough that initially he couldn’t even detect the Annie-smell underneath. Without thinking, he inhaled deeply, trying to make sense of it.

“Um, Troy?” she asked, sounding a little perplexed.

“Oh, sorry,” he answered quickly, letting her go and offering an awkward grin. “You just, uh– you smell good.” Not much of a save, but frankly, he’d done a lot worse, when put on the spot. And technically it was true. Abed always smelled good.

“Oh!” Annie smiled again, apparently oblivious to his fumbling. “Thank you!” Then she looked again at the torn-open envelope in her hand, biting back her excitement. “I can’t wait to tell Abed! And Britta. And Shirley, and Jeff, and _everyone_.” Her eyes sparkling, she pulled out her phone and scurried off towards her bedroom.

Something Troy couldn’t _help_ picking up on, the more he began to suspect them, was the way Annie and Abed would look at each other across the study table.

Everyone in the group had a way of doing this – they all knew each other so well that it had become habit ages ago. They’d glance at one another and talk without really talking. Since Annie had moved in with the boys, the three of them had started doing it even more, exchanging little grins when they knew they were all thinking of the same stupid in-joke or Inspector Spacetime reference. Or Annie had a certain look she’d give the boys after someone’s stomach growled that they learned meant, _you guys want me to cook tonight?,_ and they’d nod, _yes please_. Sometimes, after a particularly tough study session, Abed would glance at the other two with a look that asked, _cartoon marathon when we get home?_ And all three of them knew the look they shared when Shirley was getting a little too intense about trying to help lead one of them to Jesus.

But Annie and Abed had started doing it even _more_ , Troy started to notice, and stranger still, he didn’t always know what they were saying. Their eyes would meet across the table by chance and they’d share a furtive little smile, one that Troy was sure meant _something_ – but he couldn’t say _what_ , exactly. Or certain comments or phrases from the rest of the group seemed to make the two of them glance one another’s way, suppressing a chuckle like something was a little funny. Other times Troy would catch Abed looking up at her and tipping his head slightly, eyebrows raised like he was asking her a question, and she’d look back down at her textbook before giving a subtle nod.

And it wasn’t that it _bothered_ him, exactly, so much as it was just _weird_. He knew the two of them so well that not being able to read them was bizarre. But he didn’t ask, because alongside the rest of the evidence he was slowly collecting (even if only by accident), it was a sign that something was happening a little beyond the friendship they showed on the outside. And he knew that if Abed wasn’t telling him yet, it wasn’t for him to ask about. Abed told him everything important.

Another thing that Troy couldn’t help noticing, over time, was how much more often he’d come home from class or emerge from a nap and find Annie and Abed cooking together. A solid half the time it was just buttered noodles, which certainly didn’t require two people to prepare, but there they were anyway, ranking the best (and worst) teen-drama tropes over a pot of boiling water. Or they’d tag-team grilled cheese sandwiches, one of them assembling bread and cheese, the other grilling them to perfection in the pan.

On one memorable occasion, he walked into the apartment to the tantalising smells of garlic, tahini sauce, and spices, and initially he was a little hurt they’d gotten takeout without him, but then he realised: Abed was teaching Annie to make falafel.

“What is _this!_ ” Troy couldn’t help exclaiming as he walked in. “Annie, it took over two years and a trip to visit his dad before Abed ever made falafel for _me!_ ”

Annie just grinned and shrugged. “I really wanted to learn?”

Abed afforded Troy a smile when he glanced up. “It’s true that I don’t make it often. I ate it so much growing up that I’m pretty tired of it. But I guess she caught me in the right mood. Plus, she told me she’d teach me how to make latkes.” He returned his attention to Annie’s hands, rolling out a ball far more slowly and awkwardly than he was doing. “Not so tight. It’s not a cannonball.”

She managed to both sigh and giggle at the same time. “You make it look so easy.”

“You should see his dad do it,” Troy chipped in. “The man is a falafel-making _machine_.”

“I guess you get pretty fast when you’ve been making it for thirty-five years,” Abed agreed, but he seemed distracted by the determination in Annie’s face. She was intent, and if Troy had to put a word to Abed’s expression as he watched her, he would have landed on _charmed_ , as odd an emotion as that seemed to ascribe to his best friend.

Troy watched them for a few moments longer before starting to feel a little like he was intruding. “I guess I’ll stay out of the way,” he finally said, tapping his knuckles against the counter like he’d come to a decision. “Are you guys making enough for three?”

“Of course we are,” Annie told him, smiling warmly, and Abed nodded as if to say, _obviously_.

“Cool. Shout when it’s ready, then,” Troy answered, retreating to the living room. He turned on a video game and did his best to concentrate on that rather than on his roommates.

It wasn’t like they hadn’t been expecting him to come home, he reminded himself. They knew his schedule. Nonetheless, it felt like they were sharing something just for them and he was best to leave them to it. And when he glanced at them over his shoulder, Abed had moved around behind Annie’s back, putting his hands over hers to demonstrate the amount of pressure he used to keep a ball of the falafel mix together. She grinned as she started to get the hang of it, and when they reached over to drop the ball into the oil frying on the stove, Abed smiled at her in a way he didn’t smile often. It was a _big_ smile for him, and fond, and Troy found himself smiling too as he quickly returned his attention to the TV screen.

Whatever was going on between them, he decided, he liked it. He didn’t feel like a third wheel, or like they were leaving him behind. Abed and Annie were his best friends, and he liked seeing them so close. They were… a good match, actually. Weird in complimentary ways. Each dysfunctional enough to understand the other, each grown-up enough to take care of the other. They balanced each other out.

And regardless of what this was, they were still cooking for three, which meant he wasn’t forgotten. Knowing that, Troy realised that nothing about this could shake his faith that they would _always_ be the three amigos.

If there was something the entire study group knew about Annie, it was that she had a soft spot for Jeff the size of the moon. Everyone had been aware of it for _age_ _s_ – ever since early in their second year at Greendale, when Annie had punched him in the face, and promptly let on that they’d kissed (again) the previous spring. Despite her fury that day, and Jeff’s constant insistence that the age gap between them was too big – a sentiment that Troy strongly agreed with, though he’d kept that to himself thus far – there had long been _something_ between the two of them. They thought they were hiding it; thought they only shared their weird, tender moments when no one was looking. But they were entirely mistaken.

Which was exactly why Troy hated to find himself alone with them.

Regardless of what was happening with Annie and Abed, Annie and Jeff’s _thing_ seemed like an inevitability today. It hadn’t stopped when Annie had a crush on Rich, and it never went anywhere whenever Jeff was in one of his bizarre on-again phases with Britta. And this afternoon they were studying for the Shakespeare class they were taking together this semester, reading a passage from _Much Ado About Nothing._ Maybe he’d just been best friends with Abed for too long, but Troy couldn’t come up with a way for this scene to get more contrived or predictable unless the play was swapped for _Romeo and Juliet_. He badly wanted to leave the study room altogether, but he had a test coming up this week, and if Annie thought he was slacking off on preparing for it, he’d get an earful all the way home.

He’d been doing his best to ignore them, instead, but Jeff’s performance was growing louder as he got sucked into the scene. “ _And I pray thee now tell me,_ ” he said, his delivery far more intense than it had been when they started. “ _For which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?_ ”

Troy was about ready to gag, looking at the expression on Jeff’s face as he turned towards Annie. But as Troy began to roll his eyes, he paused, realising something: Annie hadn’t met Jeff’s gaze at all. Instead of that strange, soft look she so often gave the older man, her face remained neutral save for the slight furrow of her brow as she focussed on the text. “ _For all of them together,_ ” she read aloud, spreading her hand in a probably-unconscious dramatic gesture. “ _Which maintained so politic a state of evil that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with them._ ” She paused to take a breath and turn the page, still not looking up, and Troy watched her now with curiosity. “ _But for which of my good parts did you first suffer love for me?_ ”

Troy’s gaze flicked over to Jeff, who blinked at her, as if thrown off. So he’d been expecting it, too – he’d thought one of their little _moments_ was coming. After all, Benedick was a _very_ good match for Jeff, character-wise; this scene seemed like the perfect opportunity for him and Annie to connect.

The silence stretched out until she glanced up from her book, eyebrows raised, and cleared her throat softly. “Jeff,” she hissed, and finally he jerked to life, as if startled out of some distant thought.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry.” He straightened up in his chair and looked back to his textbook with a cough.

Troy sat back slightly, stunned. Such an obvious chance for them to share one of their funny little ships-in-the-night looks, and she’d steamrolled right past it. If he hadn’t already had his suspicions about her and Abed, this would have baffled him completely. He probably would have assumed she was coming down with something, and tried to rush her home.

Instead, though… well. This put Annie’s recent closeness with Abed into an entirely new context. If it was enough to make her forget her once-unresolved feelings for Jeff, then it was something much bigger and more significant than he’d previously realised.

Another sign Troy really couldn’t ignore came when he stepped into the blanket fort to ask Abed a question, and as he glanced down at the floor, he spotted a conspicuously purple shirt crumpled up near the top of Abed’s laundry pile. Abed _did_ have one or two things in purple, but nothing that particular feminine shade of lavender, and certainly not in that smooth floaty sort of fabric girls’ shirts were made of sometimes.

“Uh, hey,” he commented, frowning at it. “Isn’t that Annie’s?”

“Mm?” Abed looked up from his phone and followed Troy’s gaze to the floor. “Oh, yeah,” he confirmed with a slight nod. “She spilled something on it the other day and asked me if I could wash it with the laundry I was about to do. I guess I kind of forgot it was in there with my other stuff and never gave it back.”

“Oh, okay,” Troy said with a nod, already turning towards his friend to return to the topic at hand. It wasn’t unheard of for the three of them to do laundry for one another sometimes, if someone urgently needed something clean.

Five minutes later, as he left the blanket fort with a revised plan for next weekend’s trip to the movie theatre, something struck him: that had been Abed’s _dirty_ laundry pile. There was no reason for Annie’s shirt to be there unless Abed had somehow not only forgotten to give it back after washing it for her, but also absentmindedly worn it as well. And as distracted as Abed could be sometimes, that seemed unlikely.

 _He’s a much smoother liar than I am_ , Troy thought, frowning again.

It was a few weeks after that, coming home late after spending a whole evening watching Shirley’s sons for her – she paid him well for it, and honestly he kind of liked the boys, even if they had _way_ too much energy – that he got another hint. More than a hint, really. Admittedly not a _true_ confirmation of his suspicions, but it was a significant new piece of evidence, and in combination with everything else he knew, a fairly undeniable piece as well.

He was quiet coming in, half because of the late hour and half an instinctive reaction to the low lights in the apartment. All he could hear was the soft murmur of narration coming from the television – _Forensic Files_ reruns, he discovered, when he got closer. But Troy barely registered that, focussed as he was on the pile on the floor that was his sleeping roommates.

They’d dragged in pillows and cushions from the bedrooms, pushing Troy and Abed’s chairs back and building themselves a little nest on the tiles. Not especially structurally sound, he noted, but then – they probably didn’t mean it to last as long as a blanket fort usually did. Abed was sprawled out on his back, gangly as he was, with his head propped up on a pair of pillows from his own bed and one arm resting around Annie’s back. For her part, she laid on her stomach on top of him, her head resting on his shoulder. There was a pink crochet blanket pulled over them, something that Troy recognised from Annie’s room, and it obscured his view somewhat, but he could almost _swear_ Annie had her arms wrapped around Abed’s middle inside his unzipped sweatshirt.

Troy stood and took in the sight for a few minutes, not wanting to wake them but at the same time reluctant to walk away. There was something both peculiar and charming about the whole thing. Even if what he was looking at didn’t _mean_ anything – and at this point, he was quite sure it _did_ mean something – it was still clear evidence that Abed and Annie were growing close in a way that Troy hadn’t really anticipated. To his own surprise, though, it didn’t make him feel envious or insecure. He’d been waiting for the jealousy or the discomfort to come creeping up, as he saw more and more of this, but it still hadn’t appeared. He liked being close with both of them, and the idea of them being just as close (or closer) to each other was… nice.

Annie and Abed would be really, really good for one another, he decided, smiling a little. With that conclusion, he turned around and headed for bed, leaving the TV on behind him.

The last sign – the thing that chased away any lingering uncertainty Troy may have had – came on a Friday night. Britta and Shirley had both managed to ace a test they’d been anxious about for weeks, and Jeff had deemed it cause for celebration. They’d decided to go out for drinks, now that Annie was old enough to get into the bar without a fake ID and everyone was pretty sure they could keep their shit together this time.

Annie and Abed sat side-by-side in the booth, shoulders pressed together, though that in itself was fairly innocuous. They were comfortable with each other, and often physically affectionate – plus, they were deep in conversation about Cougartown and the bar was noisy enough that they probably _needed_ to be close together to hear each other properly. Not to mention the fact that when all six of them were sitting in the booth, they had to squeeze in pretty tightly to fit.

Troy was by the wall, now, a drink in hand as he watched Jeff play pool with a bunch of frat guys who weren’t half as good at the game as they thought they were. Jeff, of course, had managed to goad them into betting with him, and now he was lined up to beat them soundly and pay for the next round of drinks with his winnings. Troy found it an entertaining show. He was in a good mood, relaxing with his friends after a solid week, surrounded by happy people. When he glanced back toward the booth, he saw Shirley giving Britta a playful shove, and across the table from them, Annie and Abed were laughing. He could hear the radio playing faintly in the background, and cheers from the group in the far corner celebrating someone’s birthday, and everything seemed to glow with a pleasant warmth that wasn’t just coming from the gin in his glass.

There was a _smack-thunk_ from the pool table, followed by a loud groan from one of the frat guys. Troy looked up to see the dark red seven-ball rolling across the floor. Not bothering to wonder how that had even been accomplished, he pushed off from the wall and started after it. “I got it,” he said, giving Jeff a wave.

“Thanks, man,” he heard Jeff respond behind him.

Troy followed the ball past several sets of feet, back in the direction of the table where the rest of his friends were seated. He managed to catch it with the toe of his shoe before squatting down to pick it up. As he braced his hand on his knee, about to stand, he glanced up and noticed something under the table ahead of him.

Past Shirley’s legs, he could see Annie’s and Abed’s, still pressed hip-to-hip. Annie had one foot hooked gently behind Abed’s ankle, catching on the cuff of his jeans. If that weren’t enough, Abed’s right hand suddenly shifted from where it had been resting in his lap onto Annie’s bare knee – and then up a little higher, fondly squeezing her thigh just below the hem of her short pleated skirt. Troy’s gaze darted up to their faces, and though Abed was managing to look neutral as he listened to whatever Britta was saying, Annie had to glance down as she tried to hide a smile, biting her lip to – Troy imagined – hold in a startled squeak.

Troy had to suppress a grin of his own as he quickly stood and spun around, hurrying back to the pool table and hoping his roommates hadn’t noticed him. “ _Knew it_ ,” he muttered under his breath, feeling oddly triumphant.

He handed the seven-ball to Jeff and returned to his spot by the wall, exerting some considerable effort not to let his thoughts show on his face. Of everything he’d noticed over the last couple of months, _this_ was absolutely irrefutable proof that something was happening between Annie and Abed. The rest, he could probably have chalked up to their friendship, if he’d really wanted to – after all, all _three_ of them had developed a level of both physical and emotional intimacy with one another that often looked peculiar from the outside. They were just _close_ (and honestly, Troy was grateful – he’d never had friendships like that before, and he didn’t know now how he’d lived almost twenty years that way). The ability to be that comfortable with one another was a gift.

But what he’d just seen was absolutely not a platonic gesture. Troy was certain, now, that the two of them had something romantic going on – and probably, given the _degree_ of intimacy of that particular touch, they were sleeping together, too. And he was strangely excited to know that, actually. He’d thought about it enough by now to know that he approved of the relationship. His two favourite people in the world, loving and looking after one another – what could be better than that, really? He wasn’t even insulted that they hadn’t told him yet; if anything, it had been kind of fun to figure it out on his own. As far as he could tell, no one else was aware, and it made him feel clever to have caught on. He stood up a little straighter, proud of himself.

They’d tell him when they were ready. That much he was sure of. Until then, he’d simply keep what he’d seen to himself, a fun little secret they’d never know he was in on.

He glanced over at them again, smiling at the sight of a giggling Annie resting her forehead on Abed’s shoulder.

* * *

Knowing what he knew, it wasn’t that hard for Troy to tell that Abed and Annie had been holding hands under the table for most of their lunch break. They’d both been eating one-handed, and neither was moving very much. He and Britta had been squabbling enough that _she_ probably hadn’t noticed anything unusual, but it was strangely obvious to him what was going on across the table.

Britta was still watching him, eyebrows raised expectantly. He opened his mouth, momentarily relishing the thought of her expression when he proved her _completely_ wrong, and then…

He sighed and closed his mouth again, frowning. “Like… _things_ ,” he mumbled, equal parts annoyed and embarrassed.

As satisfying as it would be not only to win an argument against Britta, but also see her face when she realised all of this had been happening right under her nose and she’d never had a clue… Troy didn’t _actually_ want to reveal Annie and Abed’s relationship for them. They were his best friends, and even if he didn’t know _why_ they were keeping it a secret, he respected that they _were_. One way or another, it would come out eventually – someone else would figure it out, or maybe they’d actually get the chance to tell everyone on their own terms. But until then, his lips were sealed. He wasn’t going to tattle on them.

“ _Things_ ,” Britta repeated, her eyebrows rising even higher. “Very specific answer, Troy. Good job.”

“Yeah.” He made a face, glancing sideways at Annie and Abed across the table. There was something like relief in Annie’s eyes, or maybe appreciation. He wasn’t sure.

And then Abed leaned forward. “He spotted a cool Easter egg in last night’s Inspector Spacetime episode,” he offered. “One that even _I_ didn’t catch.”

“You’re right, he did!” Annie agreed, perking up a little as she recalled. “He got so excited! – Oh, and he noticed last week when my salmon recipe was different from usual. We were running low on groceries when I was cooking, so I had to improvise a few things in the sauce.”

Abed pointed at her and nodded. “That’s true. And remember when we decided to Princess-and-the-Pea him? He totally noticed that.”

“ _Hey_ ,” Troy complained, looking up and pouting. “You weren’t supposed to tell about that! It’s not _my_ fault I’m a sensitive sleeper.”

“Yeah. Sorry,” Abed said, shrugging one shoulder. “But I thought it made good evidence in the argument that you _are_ observant sometimes. I bet Britta wouldn’t notice a pea under her mattress.”

Britta, who’d been looking at Abed with a confused expression for a moment or two, finally turned back to Troy and nodded in concession, hands raised. “I’m… not gonna ask about the pea thing. Anyway, I’m sorry, Troy. Obviously I wasn’t being entirely fair to you. I guess you _can_ be observant at times.”

“ _Thank_ you,” he said with a sniff. Then he looked at his roommates again, offering a little smile that communicated a much more genuine gratitude. They both smiled back.

For a moment everyone was quiet, attention back on their food, and then Britta gave a heavy, belaboured sigh. Troy looked at her. “What _now?_ ” he asked, lost.

She peered at him for a few long seconds, eyes narrowed. Finally, she muttered, “So you _still_ haven’t noticed my haircut.”


End file.
